


Good Jedi, Bad Jedi: The Death Stick Gambit

by SemperFun



Series: Good Jedi, Bad Jedi [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Rebellion Era - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Action Dueling, Adventure, Alien Character(s), Aliens, Blind Character, Blindness, Bonding, Canon Compliant, Canon Disabled Character, Chases, Class Differences, Clone Wars, Corruption, Crime Fighting, Detective Noir, Detectives, Emotional Baggage, Expanded Universe, Female Protagonist, Film Noir, Gen, Good Cop Bad Cop, Gray Jedi (Star Wars), Interrogation, Jedi, Jedi Sentinel, Light Saber Duel - Freeform, Lightsabers (Star Wars), Male-Female Friendship, Original Character(s), Original Character-centric, Original Fiction, POV Female Character, POV Male Character, POV Original Character, Partnership, Plot, Plot Twists, Politics, Science Fiction, Slow Burn, Social Commentary, Social Issues, Stakeout, Thriller, Trauma, Undercover, Undercover Missions, Underworld
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-15 00:48:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29925381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SemperFun/pseuds/SemperFun
Summary: Jedi Knight Richar Arten and his Padawan Calia Rayyah have been hard at work doing everything they can to make Level 1442 a safer place for the struggling beings of the underlevels. With the Clone Wars continuing unabated, forcing more and more refugees and other poor sentients into the underworld, opportunistic criminals are expanding further and further through the bowels of Coruscant.Now the Pirate Queen known only as Astera has set her sights on the little island of safety and security the two Jedi have worked so hard to build, determined to flood the streets with the bane of all life in the underworld, death sticks. A drug so dangerous and addictive it is known to cut off a being’s connection to the Force, driving them to commit terrible acts. Such as blinding a lost young boy for a handful of credits.With the stakes more personal than ever, the hunt is on! But who is the hunter and who is the hunted? As the Jedi are not only themselves under attack by Astera’s agents, but their friends throughout the 1442. Not all is as it seems however, and it will take all of Calia’s determination and Arten’s skill and to survive the Deathstick Gambit.
Series: Good Jedi, Bad Jedi [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1837831





	Good Jedi, Bad Jedi: The Death Stick Gambit

**Author's Note:**

> Will begin March 22, 2021, and will have updates weekly Mondays

He sat back in his chair, feet crossed resting on his desk, mindlessly watching the ceiling fan lazily spin in the dim light as he cradled a drink in his hand.

_ It’s been weeks since I’ve had a case. _

He took a sip from the glass. It was just a caf, without any of the “extra” ingredients he used to prefer. Both Chantara and Calia had been hounding him to cut back on the drinking. Sitting alone in the office his Padawan (his apprentice technically but more and more it felt as if she was the one running the show) and he had opened by converting the entrance to their hom they called the Safehouse, all he could do was wait and hope someone came through the door. Openeing the office was, of course, Calia’s idea. Instead of beings who needed help or had seen something having to hunt one of the Jedi down, they could just go to them at the office. Calia had even managed to scrounge up a personality matrix for the old cooking droid they had banging around their kitchen to act as their secretary when they were both out. Though, he had sorely wished she had found a personality that was more…amiable.

All that was moot now. 

Arten shifted his legs, reversing which rested over which on the wooden desk, real wood by the way. Calia would have scolded him if she saw him with he had his dirty boots on the desk. He always argued that the blood stains made it worthless anyway. The desk was an ironic trophy from Calia and his first big case together, the same desk that had once belonged to the infamous underworld gangster Gorm. The same desk Arten had nearly bled out on. Inside the drawers they had the various case notes and records from their various adventures over the last two years. Paper records, so Arten could actually read them by running his hands over the indents left in the pages, considering his blindness. Sure he could still see, move, and fight, by sensing his suroundings with the Force, the Galaxy spanning energy from which all Jedi drew their strength, but he was still left blind to and digital or holographic displays. So lately he had nothing better to pass the time besides training with his lightsaber, sipping on caf, and reading through their old case notes.

Arten smiled remembering the cases; the close calls, tough scrapes, and all the good they had done together. Still, that was just prevention. Calia may have finally found the cure. She had taken to organzing the district into policing and protecting itself. It had taken her months of talking, negotiating, and diplomacy, and constant upkeep, but it worked. She had to convince veryone, that pooling their resources togethor, food, medicine, credits and even working on their off hours, not only made things better for the entire district, but almost always benefitted themselves personally. While it was tenuous, with the Clone Wars always threatening to disrupt the next influx of food or medicine, the quality of life for everyone had improved, and following that most of the crime had been steadily drying up. Even when some street pusher or gang of kids tried something, either the local beings were able to handle it themselves, or S’kar’s people took care of it.

The Devaronian, formerly the biggest punk of the level, had risen in the world. While S’kar’s network’s smuggling was illegal, Calia and Arten had agreed to look the other way so long as he stayed away from dealing in drugs, weapons, or sentient trafficking. Not only did he effectively keep new criminal enterprise from muscling into the 1442, on many occasions his black market supplies of food, water, and medicine, were both more available and affordable than legal merchandise.

Naturally, the arrangement was Calia’s idea as well. Arten couldn’t have been more proud. In their three years working together they had done more good, saved more lives, than Arten had alone in a nearly a decade. While their efforts were mostly restricted to the 1442, she had been slowly pushing her message of cooperation to other levels, using the 1442’s success as a model. In enough time maybe more and more of Coruscant would know peace. 

Where did it leave him, though? After finishing his morning training, all he had done was wait alone in the office for a being who needed help, a being who more and more failed to show up. He felt like a relic from the past. Arten had made some efforts looking into crime that took place on other levels, but it had taken him years to ingratiate himself into the 1442, and that wasn’t something he could replicate elsewhere overnight. To put it bluntly, he was bored. Happy, that he seemingly was slowly less and less needed, but bored.  
He took another sip from his caf, which had long grown cold, as he stared at the door to his office. Hoping, a being would walk through asking for help, or letting him know that trouble was going down. No, he didn’t hope there was trouble, but if there was he knew he did want to be there. Staring down into his drink, he remembered how he was glad to be less busy in one regard. It gave him more time free to spend with Chantara. While the Neimoidian schoolteacher was still run ragged each day teaching, not to mention the increasing hostility many parents and other beings directed towards her just because her species were one of the Republic’s enemies in the war (most beings were smart enough not to give her trouble knowing the “friednship” between her and the Jedi), Arten and her had been spending a considerable amount of time together, nearly everyday. He hadn’t told Calia yet, relationships were heavily taboo among Jedi. Not that he was scared she would rat him to the Jedi Council, but just having no ideas how to have such a talk. Arten had a date with Chantara tonight. He had convinced Trakan’s owner to shut down the restaurant for the night, so the two could pretend they were a normal couple for a night.

Maybe being bored wasn’t such a terrible thing after all.

Calia was due back at the office soon anyway, they had planned on sparring, keeping sharp since the war always threatened chaos. They had just managed a new influx of refugees as a battle over Coruscant itself had sent debris crashing into the surface, and beings running below ground for safety or forced out of their destroyed homes with no where else to go.

Arten stretched out in his chair, resting his hands behind his head. There was probably time for a quick nap. He had been sleeping more than ever recently. Really, maybe boredom wasn’t so bad. As if the Force itself had decide to teach Arten a lesson in complacency, he suddenly felt a being making their way towards the office door from the alley that lead to the Safehouse. The Jedi Sentinel set his caf down, but didn’t bother sitting up. He was sure that whatever it was would be some small issue that would be easy enough to take care. 

The Force really did have a sense of humor.


End file.
